Loser

by Valerie J. Long

  “I’ll think of my next Ironman. I’ll consider to win it. Is that a good thought?”

  “But yes. You will soon be able to get up again. Later, a gymnast will come and do some exercises in bed with you. Is that good?”

  “Very.”

  Chapter Eighty

  I had only halfway finished the first draft of my training plan when I heard the door.

  “Hello,” I welcomed the newcomer. Male, I decided instinctively. Was it his rhythm of movement or was it his smell?

  He didn’t immediately reply.

  “Hello? Are you coming for the gymnastics?” Although a woman had been announced for that.

  A strong hand pressed my right arm to the bed, the crook of my elbow facing up. What should that mean?

  “Hey!” I tried to pull my arm away, but I was still too weak.

  “Don’t move!” the stranger barked.

  I didn’t like that at all. With my left I felt under my buttocks, while twisting my body all over.

  “Damn,” he cursed.

  Suddenly, I felt the sting of a syringe. Without disinfection first? This was no doctor—surely not.

  I only had one attempt. Quick!

  My left shot out from under my buttocks, the opened scissors aimed into the general direction of my visitor. Into the stab I applied all the power I could muster—and my martial arts experience. “Hi-yaiiih!”

  “Ouch!” the stranger cried out and stumbled backward—I felt how he tore the scissors with him, with which I surely had hit some part of his body.

  I screamed bloody murder, tore the syringe out, and waved it frantically—no, he wouldn’t get it back for any purpose! Only I became so…tired…the arm was burning…

  Tapping feet quickly came closer. I heard a loud bang, the breaking of glass, felt a fresh gush of air…I felt dizzy.

  “What’s going on here? Johanna, are you okay? What do you have there?”

  “Poison,” I murmured and slowly reached out my hand with the syringe. “Killer.”

  Then I faded away.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  “Feeling well again?” asked the voice of the doctor who had bandaged my eyes. I found the sound rather pleasant. Stop—I should consider his question first. Did I feel well?

  “The crook of my elbow itches a bit.”

  “If that’s all.” He laughed. “There’s been a hematoma from tearing out the syringe. You were lucky—almost no poison reached the blood circuit, and we could quickly neutralize that, because we had the poison itself.”

  “The poison would’ve been lethal, would it?”

  “Yes. With the content of that syringe, you could have killed three to four men. A devilish cocktail.”

  “I don’t need to guess long who’s planned this fate for me. But why now and not during the months ago?”

  “Oh, that’s probably because you’ve been in this room for the last few days only. Before, you’d been in intensive care with twenty-four hour surveillance. There, he’d have no chance.”

  Intensive care. Yes, okay, that was understandable after Eva’s report on my status. What kind of hospital was this, in any case?

  “What’s your name?”

  “Fritz. Doctor Fritz Berger from Hamburg.”

  I had to laugh involuntarily. I couldn’t see Fritz, but I could almost feel his puzzlement.

  “Why are you laughing? Do you find my name funny?”

  “No. Hallo, Fritz,” I answered in German. “Johanna Meier from Wiesbaden. Why do we talk in English?”

  Now he laughed, too. “Out of habit. Johanna. From Wiesbaden. Mmh—no, I don’t have to ask what’s taken you to Australia. You’re one of Eva’s students, are you?”

  “Correct.” I didn’t mention that this applied in more than one regard. There was another topic that occupied me more than a chat about our home. “How did that guy know that I’m no longer in intensive care?”

  “Well—from Krista.”

  “Krista?” I could well hear that he felt uncomfortable with this topic.

  “Nurse Krista. He approached her months ago, was her friend and lover. She’s told him of her work, of a problematic patient—not all, but she shouldn’t have done so—and he’s put the pieces together. Yesterday, he came here. He pretended he’d have to talk to her urgently. So he got admitted to see her. He struck her down and then came to you. That was a matter of minutes.”

  “Poor Krista.”

  “She knows the rules. She knew very well how you’ve been treated. She could have known that your life is in danger. She shouldn’t have said anything. That’s clear to her now.”

  “Where is she now? You didn’t kick her out, or did you?”

  “Not yet. That decision is still open.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “Sure? She’d almost caused your death.”

  “She’s made a mistake, yes. It could have gone bad for me. However, she’s no accomplice or such, only a girl who’s been treated badly, like me. I had to give up my job for it. I don’t want to be the cause she’s losing hers.”

  “Okay. But she’ll be transferred.”

  “No. Not because of me. I believe she won’t do this mistake twice. So I’ll be more safe with her.”

  “Oh—that’s what you mean. Mm—I’ll talk with her.”

  “Send her to me. I’ll tell her myself that I’m not angry with her. That’s something between women, okay?”

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  “Hello, Jo. What mess are you making?”

  “Hello, Eva.” I was happy to hear her voice. “I told you that I’m on Dandy’s shit list. If the culprit had brought a gun, we wouldn’t be talking now.”

  “I’ve seen the poison recipe. It wouldn’t be quick.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Sorry, Jo. But you’re entitled to know.”

  “Thanks.” She was right. Still it was an unpleasant idea. “And how will it continue? I’ve been lucky once.”

  “Lucky? Admit it, you’ve helped a bit. We found blood-stained bandage scissors outside.”

  “Got me. Okay, I admit it. I procured them.”

  “I don’t want to know the details. In any case, we have the culprit’s genetic footprint. That guy will be sentenced for attempted murder for sure. Nobody will be able to help him.”

  “Dandy surely has a good lawyer.”

  “Maybe. But will he act?”

  What kind of undertone did I hear there? “Why?”

  “As it seems, Dandy had an—accident—last night. He was hurt at the neck and bled to death from it—at least his body was almost empty. It must have been a quite unpleasant and slow death. In any case, he won’t ever molest you again.”

  “An accident. Mm. Well, he surely had many enemies. And I had an alibi. Only sad that I couldn’t see his face. I’d gladly have shown him the bad finger—sucker, I live, soon you don’t.”

  “I believe it’s good that nobody can trace his death back to you. This way, you can live your life unburdened.”

  “I can’t get rid of the impression that someone might have helped with this accident.” And it was a pity that I couldn’t see Eva’s face.

  “Maybe. However, there are no traces, and even with all his connections, he can’t change the fact of his death.”

  “Well. It seems the Dandy chapter is closed for me.”

  Part Eight—Orientation

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Neither a splash nor a hiss sounded when the orange-red fireball seemed to touch the Indian Ocean’s surface. It simply drowned. Tomorrow morning, it would resurface far away from here, invisibly shake off dust and salty water and shine above us anew, giving us light and warmth.

  If I only could do that, too! Simply shake myself and continue my life like newborn to give other people light and warmth.

  In a certain way I was newborn—after Dandy’s treatment, fate had granted me a second life. Other than like in a video game, however, I kept the traces of my previous passing, on my b
ody as well as on my soul, and this despite all my physicians’ efforts.

  The whip traces would fade one day. Still, an ugly red welt went across my breasts, which now were crowned by two cute new nipples, and I shouldn’t dare to show my back in public. You could only guess the fine stabs and cuts of Dandy’s scalpel—they formed an all-encompassing pattern of tiniest white lines like lace in my tan—or sensitively feel them.

  Eva hadn’t told me in advance, to not raise false hopes, but the nano-nutrient solution had also produced a new, small pink spot for my vulva. In theory, I should be able to feel lust there. Practically, I only felt pain when I thought of my clitoris. Phantom pain, the doctors said, that will fade.

  I wasn’t ready for my new life yet. My body had revived from the almost-dead, but my soul hadn’t found her way yet.

  I could eat and drink, piss and shit, sleep and wake. I could enduringly run, pedal, and swim. It all was stale. I didn’t feel anything.

  I didn’t want to talk about it, not about the torture, not about the recovery. So I had had to flee, flee from my fellows’ and colleagues’ well-meant attention.

  “Where can I go?” I had asked Eva.

  “Cable Beach,” had been her spontaneous reply. “Broome. Zoe once told me about it. Twenty-two kilometers sandy beach—one round trip, and you have your marathon distance.”

  I don’t run more than thirty kilometers in training, I could have said, but what for? You could always run less.

  It was a truly remote spot. After about four-thousand kilometers once diagonally across the continent, I had found my quietude. It’s better to cover the madness of driving Tanami Road all alone with a cloak of silence—I had made it without flat or broken axle, that’s it.

  When I moved a few kilometers away from Broome in the evening, I had the beach all for myself. Here, nobody cared whether or what clothes I wore. Here nobody took offense at my defaced body, here I could take off my tee shirt and shorts and let some air touch my skin.

  Here I was able to freely think about my future.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  At least I could think about it while my money lasted. As I slept in my car, this was no urgent problem. Because I had no taste, I lived cheap.

  Theoretically, I could go back to the wellness center. If I was able to get over the fact that Dandy had been a client, too, if the clients could ignore my scars, if I could relax sufficiently to feel and give lust. The latter meant—if I was ready to trust my vulnerability to the clients. At the moment, I wasn’t ready.

  I could continue my burglary. Physically, I was well on the way to catch up with my old fitness. With a new bicycle—a present from my fellows—and owing to the strict discipline with which I had implemented my training plan, I could soon apply for another Ironman and perhaps even win it, thus climbing a wall was no issue. My old alertness surely hadn’t suffered.

  I could try to put my exam to work—aside from using my knowledge to overcome current security technology. What did a Dragon engineer actually do beyond constructing fusion reactors and nursing spare nipples?

  I could find an entirely different job, to be precise, an auxiliary job. Waitress, bicycle courier, cleaner, or farmhand somewhere in the outback.

  I still had these two ampoules—well hidden, right now far away, but another option.

  Nano fever risk—reduced below 1:10^8.

  Analogy—extended guidance—to test.

  Functional restrictions—activated—to test.

  Signature—automatic activation upon injection—yet to test.

  What might nano fever be? And what was an Analogy? Analogous to what? Extended guidance made no sense to me at all. Automatic activation upon injection was the most prominent clue that this stuff triggered something inside the body. I didn’t need anything like that now.

  No, I simply needed a job, at least until I had found out what I really wanted to do with my life.

  “Hello.”

  I looked up. Who disturbed my contemplation so early in the morning?

  A spindly young man smiled at me through his hair, hanging messily into his face. “May I have a seat?”

  Good that I had left my tee shirt on this time. Usually, I instead felt like relieving myself of it after the morning round. I pointed next to me, and he sat down.

  “I’m Slim,” he said and reached out a hand.

  “I see,” I replied, took his hand and returned his firm grip. “I’m Jo.”

  “Jo. Where do you come from, Jo?”

  “Melbourne. Or Frankfurt.” I could as well have said Wiesbaden. Would he know that? For Frankfurt, the probability was higher.

  “Frankfurt. Germany? I’ve once changed planes there. I’m from Chicago.”

  “Hi, Slim from Chicago. What are you doing?”

  “Holidays. Simply relax and unwind. And you?”

  “I’m exercising and trying to meditate.”

  That broad hint was totally lost on Slim. “What are you exercising?”

  “Ironman. Running, cycling, swimming.”

  “Wow. Your body is well in shape.” He examined me for a moment and then pointed at a pale scar at my upper arm. “Accident?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ah. Okay.” For a moment his gaze rested on the ocean. “Where do you live? Which hotel?”

  “In my car. At the camping lot.”

  “Oh. Well—may I invite you for dinner?”

  Now, I watched him more closely, as I would assess a client. He looked like a nice boy who would pick up a woman, not like a sexual offender. He had a winning smile and a toned body. Aside from the messy hair, he appeared well-groomed, his beach clothes were preppy, and he smelled good.

  “Did I pass the visual inspection?” he asked. Okay, so he also had humor.

  Now I owed him two answers, and the second was obvious. So the first would result from that. His problem, if we left it at the shared dinner. “Yes.” I rose. “Now I must get going.”

  He rose, too. “Where do I find you?”

  “At the beach access road, eightish.” I briefly eased my legs, then I started a trot. I liked to run in the sand barefoot.

  “Okay.” He trotted along my side. “Do you care if I jog along?”

  “No. Just don’t expect me to run slower.” Which I did anyway, out of pity.

  I had to credit him for keeping the pace for half a kilometer, then he dropped behind, wheezing. “Un—til to—night,” he pressed out last.

  “Roger,” I confirmed, then I accelerated to my usual speed.

  “Damn,” I heard.

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  My entire travel attire consisted of microfiber tee shirts, shorts, a high-necked swimsuit and long, pale pants. So my evening dress was decided—the long pants and a more or less elegant tee shirt. I didn’t find a fresh white G-string, so I had to wear a black one that showed through the thin fabric. I couldn’t help it.

  At my feet, I could choose between the jogging shoes and those for the click pedals. Easy.

  Hey. Was I excited? I had a date—the first in more than a year.

  Was I prepared? For all consequences? No. I only pushed my doubts to the side. I had accepted, now I’d pull it through to the end. I had bought condoms, just in case.

  Freshly showered, brushed, and without make-up, I stood at the bus stop and waited.

  The people around didn’t bother me. It wasn’t busy anyway. The sun had set two hours ago, so most were having dinner or the first drink.

  I only noticed Slim when his light blue convertible stopped next to me. “Hello, Jo. Hop in.”

  “Hello, Slim. Nice car.”

  “Thank you. It’s rolling.”

  He gave me a questioning glance. “Do you like beer?”

  “Now and then. Why?”

  “Then we’ll drive to the brewery.”

  “Did you like it?” he finally asked after having paid.

  Had he noticed something? “I’m having problems with my
taste. It doesn’t work well. I hope you invited me for company and not for the food. But it was good.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  If he really had invited me for my company at the table, he had every right to be disappointed. I hadn’t had a chance to follow the news for a long time, and since I had been here, I hadn’t been interested—and I didn’t want to talk about me and my past. So our chat had been limited to sports and weather and Slim.

  At least I hadn’t played mute. In the end, he was to blame for inviting a stranger. No, that wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t have had to agree. I leaned toward him.

  “How did you imagine continuing the rest of the evening?”

  Slim raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he said sheepishly. “I know another bar.”

  “But that’s not number one on your list.” I winked at him. “Be honest. During the last hours, you’ve done your best to act the charming talk partner and ignore my rather reserved participation. You’ve truly nicely entertained me, although I gave you little reason for it, while you don’t look like the Good Samaritan who’s nursing lonely wallflowers.”

  “Erm.”

  “You’re a man. What does a man do when he’s inviting a woman for a date?”

  “Erm—he’s bringing her back to her doorstep after dinner?”

  Ah. He slowly regained his wits.

  “Where she can invite him for a coffee or not, thereby clarifying it all. Sink or swim. Well, we have to improvise a bit—I’d ask you in for a coffee, but I’m living rather cramped and have run out of coffee.”

  “Yes—erm?”

  Crap, suddenly he was shy. Or had I just run him over? “Would you be invited in for a coffee?”

  “Eh—yes. Yes, sure.”

  “Fine.” I leaned back and smiled.

  Slim watched me, puzzled. I kept my smile. It took a moment until he understood that it was his turn, but then his features lit up.